The Sharpest Lives
by ThaliaToxic
Summary: Will eventually be a SpratxVlad.  Told from Sprat's point of view and what is going on in his life.  Vlad helps him get through his depression.   Characters are kinda OOC. Some violence and bad language so far.


**Rating: Probably only T, because of language and some violence, but I'll say M just to be safe in later chapters. **

**Disclaimer: All rights, characters, and everything belongs to Heather Brewer (Except my own ideas…pretty sure I own those.) Title is taken from a My Chemical Romance song, just because I love them. **

**Characters/Order: Not sticking to the timeline of the books, and it's pretty OOC. I make some guesses and make up my own ideas/descriptions about the characters. SpratxVlad is the pairing, but it's not the only main focus. **

**Authors N****ote:****I ****don****'****t ****normally ****write ****fanfiction, ****I ****prefer ****reading ****it****…****but ****I ****decided ****to ****give ****it ****a ****try. ****This ****will ****eventually ****be ****VladxSprat ****if ****enough ****people ****say ****you ****want ****me ****to ****continue ****writing.****This ****is ****a ****really ****short ****bit ****of ****the ****chapter ****which ****moved ****really ****fast,****next ****chapters ****will ****be ****longer ****and ****more ****detailed ****hopefully****^_^**

Just waking up to go to another monotonous day at school, Sprat pulled himself out of bed and sluggishly poked his alarm clock until it shut up. He yawned

and flipped his bedraggled hair out of his face. Realizing the little time he had left to get ready offered no time for breakfast, Sprat tossed some candy into

his backpack. Upon opening his closet to choose an outfit, he was greeted by the onslaught of dark colors filling the hangers. He pulled on a 'The Used' t-

shirt and hopped into his favorite pair of black skinny jeans. Finally, as always, he carefully slid on his striped black and white wrist warmers. Next, he went

through his routine of straightening his long, raven black hair to cover half his face. On a day in which he had more time, he would have teased his hair into

perfection, however, that was not today. He settled for only a bit of hairspray just to keep it smooth. A few times, Sprat recalled, his various classmates

would ask to touch or pet his hair, to which he promptly declined. He found their fixation to be just a little creepy, and he would uncomfortably shuffle away

silently when asked. While applying a bit of eyeliner, Sprat was interrupted by an unwelcome guest bursting into his room and shouting.

"Damn it, What did I tell you about going around in public looking like a fag?".

_What a wonderful voice to hear, _Sprat thought to himself, but stayed quiet. From his experience, he had learned it was best to just let his hateful father say

what he wanted to, and try not to let the spiteful words get to him.

"Well? Another guy got your tongue? Answer me boy!"

Slowly, Sprat turned toward the father he so hated, "You told me that I wasn't allowed to wear what I want." The answer earned him a sharp slap across

the face, his father staring him down menacingly.

"Just go, I can't even look at you right now." His father spat out, giving Sprat a shove.

Holding back a vitriolic retort, Sprat grabbed his bag and made a run for the door.

He heard his father laughing insults at him as he headed outside, "running away like a girl".

Getting into the fresh air, Sprat took a deep breath to collect himself, wondering why he had opened his mouth and answered his father. Quite honestly,

Sprat was sick and tired over the mistreatment and harsh words exchanged on a regular basis. People he knew had nice, functional families, _why can't I?_ He

thought. With a sigh and negative thoughts clouding his mind, Sprat started the short walk to school…

At school, it was a normal day for Sprat...so basically, to most normal people, it would be considered a hellish day. However, Sprat was used to the pain he

endured everyday, and had almost become numb to it by now. He knew which halls, bathrooms, and lockers to avoid. The jocks and bullies especially

taunted and attacked him mercilessly whenever they caught sight of Sprat. Today, like most days, he sat at the back of all his classes and did the very best

he could to blend in with the walls. He prided himself in succeeding, since, it's not easy to be ignored when you are a dark black shadow against the bleach

white walls. His only brief relief from the loneliness he went through at Bathory High was lunch. He would sit with Kristoff, October, Snow, and most recently,

the enigmatic Vladimir Tod. A group of outcasts, scorned by their peers and looked down upon by teachers.

The bell to go to lunch rang, and upon entering the cafeteria, Sprat saw their table and scurried over to it. He was the first here today, which was unusual

since Kristoff always sat in his corner seat, smirking and glaring at everyone in order to protect their table. Looking around nervously, Sprat hesitated to sit

down. The jocks wouldn't bully the mysterious, foreign, Kristoff from the table, but he knew that's exactly what they would do to him. Quickly, Sprat checked

his phone, one new message,

From Kristoff: Got detention, I hate this school. Save me a seat at lunch, yeah? I plan on skipping class as soon this old substitute falls asleep.-

Sprat's eyes darted around the cafeteria searching for any danger, and he decided it was all clear to claim their usual table. He didn't want to disappoint his

friends by being the coward he considered himself…

**Comment and critique, I would appreciate it! **

**-ThaliaToxxic-**


End file.
